


NedCan Valentine's Day Exchange 2019 - Loving you through our Time Together

by BearBooper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gift Exchange, Historical References, Lars is a dork for Matthew, M/M, Mentions of BeNeLux siblings - Freeform, Mutual Pining, NedCan Valentines Day Exchange 2019, Pining, mentions of FACE family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearBooper/pseuds/BearBooper
Summary: NedCan Valentine's Day Exchange 2019! Written for @a-cool-canadian on Tumblr! this has been cross-posted on my tumblr @a-writing-bearPrompt was 'Fluffy moments and Historical Events.'-----This was an agreement between the two of them. Not their countries. There was personal tinge to it and it made him gulp at the overwhelming insinuation of it all- Matthew was his saving grace at this point. While Canada was just another ally, Matthew had become everything.





	NedCan Valentine's Day Exchange 2019 - Loving you through our Time Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@a-cool-canadian on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40a-cool-canadian+on+tumblr).



> Happy Valentines Day everyone! My inner history buff got excited- apologies for any inaccuracy and vagueness, I don't really know much and researched a little bit. I hope Jess enjoys this piece as much as I did writing it :)
> 
> \- Bear

It had been cold. That was one definite vivid memory he could recall when reminiscing over the long conceptual relationship he had nurtured with the Canadian. The cold dusty air of new land had the taste of excitement, and his hair had been ruffled from his pack and belongings when he first landed in what was not yet known to be the North American continent. It was a time before such modern (or what is considered to be ‘modern’ to a nearly immortal entity like themselves’) names like Matthew could be granted, let alone the title of ‘Canada’. The 1500s were a messy time, and especially considering by then it was only a mere measly 500 years of Lars officially donning ‘Holland’, his experience of running a country was dictated by his teachings of his seniors- the germanics had not yielded much besides the importance of strategy on him and the need for expansion and exploration came to him naturally, like the waves back to the shores pulling him in. His expedition to the Indies had been quite the effort and it wore Lars through and through, so his focus during 1605 was far from ogling Matthew- he was unaware of Matthew’s presence on the pristine territory entirely.  He had barely spotted a distant figure on the landing, a small one too far to be someone of importance- let alone a new country he would meet within the next few centuries. Little did he know such a blurry figure, the one that barely piqued his interest, would have morphed into an infatuation to span a lifetime.

The first formal introduction to the former-colony had been egged on by momentary passing remark from England and France, Both of which were fervently arguing over ownership of the young nation for nearly a millennium. The Netherlands, being the ever-snarky and enterprising man he is, had been engaged in some rather boring trade and naval control wars with the Englishman- the man had this rather short and delicate youth following him around some lost pup, or a deer too heavy and endearing to carry the weight of the world on his own. Too eager to impress, Matthieu (as Francis had spelt it) had the dazzling purple eyes and a smile so sickly sweet that Lars couldn’t help but pray for the youth’s survival under the Englishman’s imperial rule. No matter whose side he was on, Lars was sympathetic to the young nation as he too could remember the strife and difficulties that came with being under control of someone else. The back and forth of the many anglo-dutch wars were more of an annoyance, but Lars appreciated the interested, if not slightly concerned, glares he would receive from the colony hiding behind Arthur’s chair whenever he came to bicker over imports. He remembered the first time he had a proper conversation with Matthieu- he had been visiting some former citizens who had decided to share Dutch farming techniques to their new landowners when they had migrated to the British Isles.

“How is it you allow this?” the small voice had spooked the Netherlands as it seemingly came from nothing until his eyes trailed down to his chest to see the colony glaring at the book in his rough hands- a manual on new crops and selective planting. He recognised the being, that fluffed out hair that crowned Matthew's youthful face and those eyes that were so intensely ingrained in Lars’ memory.

“Pardon?” Lars- even though he exemplified the youthful mortal age of a 20-year-old and was still morphing with the development of his own land, was surprised to see how much Canada had grown since the last time he had seen him: Matthieu almost looked like the typical pre-teen that one could witness working in the fields of family farms and no longer the child that sat in the corner of some estate.

“Why do you allow us to take your techniques? Doesn’t it help us…? You fight with Mr England all the time but you’re allowing your skills to be taken and no offence you’re well known for your fighting” His face was soft despite his rational confusion; the questioning had put Lars in an uneasy position but who was he to deny explanation to someone still learning?

After much thought and a pause that seemed to engage Matthieu, Lars voice rang out with no wavering: “Political concerns like land and trade should not interfere with the wellbeing of anybody. People deserve to eat and to survive regardless of the disagreement between myself and your superior. I like fighting- however, I don’t see the need for unnecessary suffering”. The contemplation on the colony’s face had been so clear and mesmerised. At the time Matthieu had not only absorbed such information but a hunger for more advice panged in his chest; the blonde’s youth shone towards Lars- the honest and honourable considerations of him juxtaposed the usual nonsense that had been spewed to him by Francis and Arthur. Ít was at that moment Mathieu realised the wish he had for himself...and his respect for the older country stuck with him alongside his secret interest in the mysterious private dutchman.

* * *

Years since that interaction had passed, and the news of revolution spread like wildfire throughout Europe. There was no lie that it brought a smirk to Lars’ face once he heard of British colonies throwing fits; he had only read of the conflict in his news and heard from various leaders of the tantrums over in North America, his mind flickering to the prospects of Canada and wonder over what the intention of the ‘new world’ would bring. Despite Alfred’s brash and busy nature, Matthieu had been more reserved and diplomatic in his attempts of freedom and by the time Lars had run into Canada at the time, he had grown into a much older personification and donned a rather complimentary vest that screamed professionalism and diplomacy. Lars was thankful of his ever-present striped scarf that trailed over his neck and covered his red cheeks as he bumped into Matthieu: He had grown extremely attractive, and the taller man could no longer deny that his old innocent platonic admiration of the man had now been replaced and solidified into a more romantic notion of admiration of that glorious smile and French-tinged accent.

“Hallo Matthieu, I’ve heard you are now autonomous? Has Arthur really given up his conquest of the world?” His Dutch voice almost stuttered uncharacteristically as he breathlessly watched the man fiddle slightly with his sleeves, almost wrinkling the paperwork that was stocked in hand. 

“Ah- Mr Netherlands! Yes! It is very exciting- Alfred had pushed me to change my ways and govern myself, but I’m more of the talking types so I’m on my way to negotiate some more over the British North America act!”

“That’s...uh... Gefeliciteerd Matthieu-Congratulations I mean..I know it must be time-consuming.”

“Oh, very much so Mr Netherlands- what brings you to Arthur’s home? I suppose it not another war again.” Lars almost tripped over at the accusation before he saw the glint and twitch of teasing that the other had possessed.

“Ah no just some business and...call me Lars, we are equals, consider this our proper introduction. The Country of the Netherlands” His hand had been outstretched, the sleeves of his tan coat straight and eager despite Netherland’s signature poker-face saying otherwise.

“Then...Hello Lars, I am Matthew- spelt with an ‘e-w’ now, I’m the Country of Canada.” the gentle hands had a strong grip much to Lars’ surprise, and the keen thankful demeanour of Matthew warmed Lars’ soul more than he’d like to admit. 

He had never been more interested in the ‘New world’ than then.

* * *

Unfortunately, the next run-in with the Canadian had been one of the unhappy circumstances rather the usual fleeting meet cute. Neutrality had allowed Lars to scrape by during the first world war and it seemed as though fate would dictate that German invasion during the second would interrupt his peaceful intentions. To this day Lars shudders at the atrocities he had endured, the suffering had left him even more remorseful with his immortality than patriotism over his survival. Finance had always been a strong factor in his strategy an it seemed as though selling weapons and food had been useless in comparison to the past... occupation was a depressingly painful experience and while he has moved on from the grudge, it still bubbles up in his soul even though a century has passed. When his dear sister Belgium had been pressured, and her land trampled, the Dutchman swallowed his pride- a swell of nervousness overrode his ego as he called his allies for support. Perhaps it was futile and blissfully over hopeful for him to think any troops could have made it in time. He watched the bombings over rotterdam with gritted teeth and his calloused hands which were used to the smooth finish of coins and the flora of green valley had clenched with an anger that he was unable to work out as ‘fortress holland' had been taken. Rotterdam was cursed as he was forced to sign those ‘surrender’ agreements; everything, while blurry, was so achingly heartbreaking. Lars was consistent with the intelligence he shipped off to his allies but there was a bitterness in the fact he was left to his own devices- isolated with only the company of his enemy plaguing his land. Although the understandable ‘sorry’s of his allies rang loudly in the various calls and letters; it was the undeniable fury of Matthew that uplifted the forlorn dutchman. In contrast to the reserved nature he had conveyed- Matthew was a tactical and unwavering genius; his words of assurance was so lighthearted despite the grim situation they had found themselves in”

“I promise you Netherlands. I will keep them safe for you. I will hide them from the world If i have to.” The plan was risking everything. How on earth were they expecting to smuggle part of government and the royal family abroad without a disaster? His mind was riddled with constant worry and the usual calculating and deadpan man was rambling with anxious desperation; They had planned for an evacuation to the UK and Canada for a while but executing such an escape was now expected to be more than just spoken agreements.

“Canada I don-”

“ _ Lars.  _ Trust me. _ ”  _ if it wasn’t under such dire consequences, Lars would have shuddered at the way the Canadian had pronounced his name; it was melodious in its powerful statement and the seriousness of the tone stole his heart piece by piece- Matthew didn’t know how grateful he was and forever will be. They had grown close due to European deals and although the two were regularly sending mail to each other, they always referred to each other at a distant title of ‘Mr’ or ‘Sir’ - to hear the utterance of his name signalled to him Matthew’s genuine care. This was an agreement between the two of them. Not their countries. There was personal tinge to it and it made him gulp at the overwhelming insinuation of it all- Matthew was his saving grace at this point. While Canada was just another ally, The man before him known as Matthew, on the other hand, had become everything.

Matthew had kept his word and by 1943, Princess Margriet had been born in Ottawa civic hospital- and to go the extra Mile Canada had made sure the ward had been registered as international territory to secure Dutch succession rights in the interest of Lars. He was beyond grateful. If he had not admitted his feelings for the man before this, then surely this act alone was the one that tipped his pure love for his dashing saviour. Hunger winter the following year was his most pitiful hour and it almost felt humiliating to watch the sadness glow in Matthew’s wearing and exhausted eyes when he had arrived at Lars salvation; the food in his arms was more than the Dutchman could ask for. Canada had never held that moment of weakness against him and instead caressed his cheek when he found the man slumped off the wall of some building in Randstad. He could remember the tired grasp they shared, the hug so warm compared to the cold he had been fighting, the blush on both their lips barely recognisable due to the dirt and grime that covered them both. the hasty and sudden taste of Matthew’s lips on his own, his starvation being replaced with nothing more than starvation of Matthew’s long-awaited affection and contact- he was so hopelessly in love.

* * *

The liberation of the Netherlands was practically inseparable to Dutch-Canadian relations and it was no big deal when a commemoration over such sacrifices was announced. Tulips came flown in by the thousands and Matthew was more than welcoming when his house had been adorned with tulips of all types. Lars was adamant to admit his obsession to give so many bouquets stemmed from much more than appreciation over his liberation yet the moment he had once again met Matthew, any anxious uncertainty over the gift disappeared.

For once he had stepped foot in the Canadian’s homeland, and by the time he had gotten to the doorstep of the personification, his assistant had made him aware that Mattie had tried to phone him on the diplomatic line countlessly.  Lars' feet shuffled, the soles of his boots grating on the wicker mat that sat judgmentally at the front door of his crush’s cabin; The flowers that seemed perfectly trimmed in  His hands were a bundle of specially grown tulips, bright red in their beautiful bloom- a private batch grown in his own home rather than his national fields. The doorbell was cut off as the door flung wide open extremely quickly, Matthew’s furrowed brow jumping into a more expressive and exhilarated look of astoundment.

“Lars?! Wh-how- I was just calling you to say thank you for the flowers!” 

“I’ve uh...Brought you some more..” he almost melted as Matthew broke out into a wide smile, showcasing those pearly teeth in a grin. Despite their kiss back in 1944, the two were ridiculous in their courtship, shy in their advances and had not done much but spend nights talking to each other since. He had shed his jacket as he stepped into the strawberry blonde’s home, whom of which was quickly procuring a vase for his gift before offering some drinks.

“I...missed you. We’re grateful...I’m grateful for you Mattie.” Thank fuck for his practised poker-face in making it easier to say such words, and Matthew’s close nature meant that the Canadian could tell he was being sincere regardless of the straightly-lined announcement. The two caught up, pleasantly satisfied with each other’s company. Neither of them said anything as they found themselves snuggled up on a seat, hands and legs intertwined for ‘warmth’.

* * *

The modern era was rife with issues, issues that were starkly different from those of the 15th century but stemmed from the same themes of protectionism. The creation of NATO and OSCE, as well as their positions at the table of the UN, allowed them to speak more often and technologies like phones did nothing but encourage pursuing a relationship. Yet in the millenium of beating around the bush over their relationship, neither had said anything of the relationship between Matthew and Lars. It was always just the business side of Canada and the Netherlands that interacted, the close brush of shoulders being nothing more than a lingering with of unsaid meaning.

“Why don’t you two just go make out right now?” Alfred had cornered Matthew during a lunch time break, and his new tailored suit had become unbearable as his brother tormented him with mentions of his love life. It was not that they didn’t want to enter a relationship things were just... complicated. Being a nation was complicated. He had known Lars for so long, harboured feelings for him for just as long, what if Lars found that discouraging? Besides they had kissed...not that America knew that. God. Matthew internally rolled his eyes at the fact his brother was gossiping like some teenage girl. 

“It’s not that simple Al. Lars is...he might not be interested anymore.” Insecurity had got the best of him and although he was always socialising with the dutchman - whether it be at olympic games or just stately visits - there was not much to go on from besides the looks they shared. Alfred whistled in disbelief, his brother must of been blind to not see the tripping over that Lars does unconsciously for him. The Netherlands had become the 8th highest destination of canadian exports and not to mentions the countless treaties and trade deals that the two had signed. Nothing says romance more than free trade and visa exemptions right? Everyone had seen the two squabble and tiptoe around the facts, making excuses like ‘diplomatic friendship’ and ‘international cooperation’ when it was clear as the light of day that these were more just benefits to being able to visit each other freely and often. As if god wanted to torment Matthew, Lars had come over, the clicking of his shoes loud with such a fast walking pace. Alfred ‘coincidentally’ had affairs to attend to at that moment and the two were left alone besides the table of coffee and refreshments. 

“Hallo schatje, How are you? Was i interrupting your brother?” Matthew flustered at the nickname, he still wasn’t quite sure what it meant and the last time he asked Belgium and luxembourg for a translation they laughed and refused to let him know what the dutchman had been naming him. “I’m alright, alfred was just gossiping again, how are you Lars? Still waiting for springtime i suppose?” he nodded, the two quickly dissolving into gleeful conversation and it was always quite the spectacle to see the usually harsh and blunt european to break out an unlikely smile in the company of the quieter sheepish north american; he only really did so with his siblings and even then it was supremely rare. It was only when Matthew had turned to pour himself another cup of coffee did he hear a mumbling of the Dutchman obviously struggling with his inner thoughts: “fuck dit is stom en moeilijk, maar ... God, wees genadig...just say it…” Under his breath and muffled slightly into the cotton scarf he heard the dutchman swear to himself.

“Is everything alright Lars? Is this about the new-”

“Would you like to go for a...date after this...this meeting...?” Matthew was speechless. His free hand straightened his tie and he tried to formulate his answer- one that was clearly a yes. As he stared into those bluish eyes and the blonde’s avoiding look, he faltered. Every thought and hesitation to pursue a relationship was obliterated by the look on Lars’ face. Lars, embarrassed by this whole attempt had tried to cough his way out, nearly retreating, ready to beat himself up at fucking up a milleniums worth of friendship…

“Thank fuck. I thought you’d never ask.” Lars’ mouth stretched into an ‘oh’ before rapidly mentioning many apologies of his romantic incompetence but Matthew paid no attention as he tried to stand on his tippy toes. With his new height barely able to reach up to his lover’s chest, His hand grasping at the scraggly orange tie Lars had chosen that day and pulled him down into an overdue kiss.

**“I’ve loved you for all of history Lars.”**


End file.
